


it was all for nothing

by rocketshiptospace



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 07:45:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4697927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocketshiptospace/pseuds/rocketshiptospace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Can you promise me it's going to be you and me, always? Just you and me, against the rest of the world.” </p>
<p>He can't see it, but he can tell from the way Michael's fingers smooth out his hair before tangling themselves in it again that he's smiling. He can hear it too, the small huff Michael always lets out when he smiles at something Luke says, like he can't quite believe Luke actually has that effect on him. Like he can't believe he's actually allowed to smile at the things Luke says. “Just you and me, Luke,” He says, and Luke can hear the fondness in his voice. “Always. Just you and me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	it was all for nothing

**Author's Note:**

> hello im still alive i still write things and stuff its a miracle halelujah (also shout out to gab. she's great i love her v much. she's one of the reasons this fic exists so <3)

“Hey Michael?” Luke says, head pillowed on one of Michael's thighs, Michael's fingers running absentmindedly through Luke's hair. They're sitting in the grass, Michael's back against a tree, the lake stretched out in front of them. It's their spot, the place they come when they just need to escape the world for awhile. The only place where it's just them, and no one else. The place where they can be their selves, where they can be head over heels in love and kiss and be stupid without anyone judging them.

Michael hums, the noise soft but still loud in their quiet environment. Luke tries to look up at him, but he can't get the angle quite right, not with Michael's fingers still tangled in his hair, so he gives up and looks up at the grass instead. The blades are almost as vibrantly green as Michael's eyes. Almost. Luke's pretty sure there's nothing more beautiful, more alive, more vibrant than Michael's eyes. Especially not when they look at Luke with so much fondness in them that Luke often wonders if he even deserves it. “Can you promise me something?”

“Sure,” Michael says, softly tugging on a tuft of Luke's hair.

Luke stays quiet for a bit, while he listens to the birds singing above their heads and the soft splashing of the water hitting the banks of the lake. It's calm, peaceful, and Luke's pretty sure he could fall asleep like this, with the soft sounds of the nature around him and Michael's fingers buried in his hair. “Can you promise me it's going to be you and me, always? Just you and me, against the rest of the world.”

He can't see it, but he can tell from the way Michael's fingers smooth out his hair before tangling themselves in it again that he's smiling. He can hear it too, the small huff Michael always lets out when he smiles at something Luke says, like he can't quite believe Luke actually has that effect on him. Like he can't believe he's actually allowed to smile at the things Luke says. “Just you and me, Luke,” He says, and Luke can hear the fondness in his voice. “Always. Just you and me.”

Luke closes his eyes, contently, and falls asleep to Michael softly humming the lyrics of _I Miss You_.

–

The clock keeps ticking.

It pisses Luke off because it _shouldn't._ The clock should stop, time should stop, everything should stop, but it's not. The clock is ticking and time is passing by and Luke can't get himself to move. He's just staring at the clock, watching the hands move around in circles, taunting him. _Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock_. He momentarily toys with the idea of smashing the clock in a million pieces just to make it _stop_. But that would require getting up, and it wouldn't help him at all, because time would not stop moving just because his clock is not longer there. Time would still go on, life would still go on.

Every tick reminds him that _he's_ _gone_ and the tock tells him _he's not coming back_. He's gone and he's not coming back and the clock keeps ticking and time keeps passing by and Luke sits on the floor and does nothing.

He doesn't really see the point, either.

–

“Can you believe we got our own place? This is _our_ apartment now! _Our_!” Michael is almost vibrating with excitement, jumping up and down while enthusiastically waving the keys around. He almost hits Luke in the face with them, and Luke laughs, grabbing Michael's shoulders to get him to calm down.

“Yes, yes I know, I was there when we signed the lease. And I'm equally excited, but please calm down or we're going to end up in the ER on our first day of being apartment owners.” Luke says, his words warningly but his tone fond.

“I love you,” Michael says, smile wide and excited and happy. He looks good, standing in the tiny hallway of their even tinier apartment, boxes and junk stacked around him. The apartment is not much, just four walls (very ugly colored walls at that) and a floor (the floor is also not something to write home about) but it's theirs. It's _theirs_. Luke can't believe that after everything they went through, all those people who told them they'd never make it they're standing here now, just as much in love as when they first met, with their apartment keys in hand.

And he suddenly feels Michael's words deep in his soul, and it sounds sappy and stupid, but he _does_. Because looking at Michael's excited face and the unfinished apartment around them and the unspoken promises of a future together he thinks, yeah. Yeah he really, _really_ loves Michael. So the “I love you, too,” That comes out of his mouth as he hauls Michael closer by his shoulders and wraps his arms around him is easy. It's true.

“Can I maybe interest you in a kiss, roommate?” Michael asks, bringing his hands up to Luke's face, swiping his thumbs over Luke's cheeks, like he always does when he can't quite believe Luke is a real person that is actually, really standing in front of him. It fills Luke's stomach with butterflies every single time, even after all those years.

“Maybe,” Luke says, but then he's leaning forward and softly pressing his lips to Michael's. It's slow, soft, simple. It's them, in the hallway of their new shared apartment, on the brink of something new. Something amazing. It's a new step in their live, one that Luke's taking with both feet at once. He'll go anywhere, as long as Michael's there with him. And Michael's always going to be there with him. After all, he promised Luke, all those years ago.

Just the two of them, against the rest of the world.

–

“Luke,” The voice is soft, but demanding. Whoever it is, they aren't going to leave without getting Luke to at least get his head out of the blanket cocoon he has created around himself. If he's really unlucky, they're also probably going to force him to like, actually get out of bed and eat something. Luke already feels drained just at the thought.

“Luke!” The voice sounds a little bit more determined, and now there's also shaking involved. Like, someone (Luke is pretty sure it's Ashton) is literally shaking him where he's bundled up in the blankets and Luke lets out a frustrated noise.

“What,” He demands, finally poking his head out of his blankets when he realizes the shaking is not going to stop. As suspected, it's Ashton who's standing over him, worried look etched on his face. When he sees Luke, however, he smiles weakly.

“It's alive!” Ashton says, in a very bad impression of Dr. Frankenstein. Luke frowns at him. “I'm sorry,” Ashton sighs, running his hand through his hair. It's silent then for awhile, as Ashton simply stands there, observing him, clearly not sure what to say. He probably didn't think he'd get this far, and now he doesn't really have a plan as for what to do next. Luke can feel himself growing annoyed.

“What do you want, Ash,” He says, a lot harsher than his best friend probably deserves. Luke knows he's only here because he cares about Luke, wants to make sure he's okay, but Luke would very much prefer to just, wallow in his own self pity for awhile. For the rest of eternity. God knows he deserves it, after giving his heart to people only to have them carelessly toss it away.

“I just,” Ashton seems at a loss for words, fumbling with his hands. Eventually he settles on, “You look like shit,” Which in Luke's humble opinion isn't the best option out of all the things he could have said.

“Thanks,” Luke states dryly, and Ashton sighs, frustrated.

“You know that's not what I mean, Luke. I just, I was hoping...” He trails of, but Luke knows what he was going to say. _'I was hoping you'd be over him now, Luke.' 'It's been three weeks, Luke, he's not coming back.' 'You need to come to peace with it, you need to let it go.' 'You need to start living again.'_ It's all things he knows are true, but he just. He can't. He can't throw years and years of loving away like it was nothing. He can't do what Michael did. He can't just get up and leave and leave it all behind like he did. He, contrary to Michael, thought they were endgame. He thought they were going to make it to the end of the line. Fuck, he was thinking about proposing and kids and growing old together. He saw a future with Michael, one that Michael himself apparently never saw. He can't just put all of that in the bin and move on. It's not that simple.

“Please come out of bed, at least. I can, I can make you a pillow fort on the couch, yeah? Get you some blankets, grab all the pillows I can find, make you some tea. But please at least leave your room for something else than just to eat, Luke. Please. I can, fuck, I will literally watch an entire season of How I Met Your Mother with you, if that's what you want.” Ashton looks at him, pleadingly, and Luke narrows his eyes. He's not _that_ easily persuaded.

“Two seasons. And hot chocolate with mini marshmallows.”

Ashton taps his chin, like he's considering Luke's offer, but Luke can see the smile on his face, the sparkle in his eyes. The happiness that he finally managed to get Luke out of bed. That he got Luke to act like a normal funciton human being again. Or well, maybe not completely function, but him and Ashton both now it's a start. “Fine. Two season, and hot chocolate. And if you're really nice, I might even make you brownies.”

“I love brownies,” Luke mumbles, as he drags himself out of bed and follows Ashton into the kitchen. Ashton laughs and yells, “I know!” over his shoulder as he grabs the necessary kitchen appliances. He watches Ashton putter around the kitchen, whistling mindless tunes, while he sits at the kitchen table and thinks that maybe, maybe he can do this without Michael.

Baby steps. But he's getting there.

–

“Mikey, Michael, where are you taking me?” Luke whispers, giggling while Michael drags him through the abandoned school hallways. Michael had suddenly gotten up during English, announced to the teacher Luke wasn't feeling well, and Luke, slightly confused but immediately playing along, had clutched his stomach and groaned in pain. He had no idea what Michael was up to, he just knew that when Michael said jump, Luke asked how high. Which is how he ended up being dragged through the hallways without any explanation as to why.

Michael just shushes him and tightens his grip on Luke's wrist, frantically looking around for, well, _something_. Luke has no idea, but he's starting to not really care. Michael's touching his wrist, which is the most PDA they've had since they started dating, and Luke's reveling in it, even though there's no one around to see it. He likes the way Michael's hand wraps around his wrist, likes the warmth seeping through. Likes Michael's touch, simple as that.

“Ah, found it,” Michael mutters, and suddenly Luke's being pulled into one of the few janitor's closets that the school has.

“What,” Luke says, once they're standing in the tiny, dark closet, pressed close together because they won't fit in otherwise. “You literally dragged me out of English class, through the whole school, into a janitor's closet, and for what? To make out like the young horny teenagers we obviously are?”

Michael leans forward and presses his face against Luke's shoulder, his hands resting comfortably on Luke's hips. “It's our one month anniversary, you dummy.” He's smiling against Luke's shoulder, Luke can feel it through the thin fabric of his shirt, and he can't help the smile that spreads over his own face.

“And to celebrate that you are going to murder me in an abandoned janitor's closet and leave my dead body for the rats. Very romantic.” Luke deadpans, because he's definitely not above ruining a quiet romantic moment if he gets the chance.

“Shut up, Luke,” Michael mumbles, but there's not heat behind it. And then he's pressing kisses to Luke's shoulder, to his collar bones, to his neck, his cheekbones, and finally, _finally_ his mouth.

Luke immediately responds to the kiss, with the enthusiasm and clumsiness of someone who still isn't quite used to it, to being allowed to kiss Michael, to actual kissing. His hands grab at Michael's shirt, and Michael's hands are in his hair, and Luke feels happy, he feels so happy. He's making out in a janitor's closet like some sort of lame high school cliché, and it's clumsy and he can't actually see anything, but he's so, _so_ happy.

“Hey,” Michael says, pulling away, but only slightly, so their noses are still touching, “I think I'm falling in love with you.”

Luke feels the happiness in his chest burst and it spreads to every limb in his body. Fuck he's pretty sure he can feel it in his _toes_ , that's how happy he is right now. He brushes his nose against Michael's, presses his hands against his chest, as he whispers, “I think I'm falling in love with you, too.”

–

Something's off. Luke doesn't know what it is, but there is something off about Michael, and he doesn't know what to do.

Here's the thing about Michael and Luke; they have a routine, like the domestic couple they are. Usually, Luke wakes up first in the morning, shuffles out of bed and goes to make coffee. After about ten minutes Michael joins him, wrapping his arms around him from behind, complaining how the bed's too cold with Luke in it and that he wanted his coffee like, fifteen minutes ago. They'll sit across from each other, talk about the day ahead, and when it's almost time to leave, they shower, get dressed, and go their separate ways with a kiss and an ' _I love you_ '.

Michael usually comes home first, so when Luke enters the apartment after a long day of work, it smells like home cooked food and safety and _home_. He'll wrap his arms around Michael's waist like Michael did in the morning, bury his nose in Michael's shoulder, and take in his scent and his body heat as he listens to Michael ramble about his day. After dinner they usually watch TV for awhile, or hang out with friends, and when they finally go to bed they fall asleep curled around each other, so close that it's hard to tell where Michael starts and Luke begins.

But lately, lately things have started to change.

Luke still wakes up first, but Michael doesn't get out of bed till the very last minute, pressing a hurried kiss to Luke's cheek as he rushes out to get to work. Luke drinks his coffee alone, and tells the microwave all about his plans for the day. He hasn't said ' _I love you_ ' to Michael in the morning for a very long time.

When he gets home, there are no longer home cooked meals. There's either take out, or Michael isn't even home. On those days he leaves a note, saying things like 'I'm out with friends, will be home late' or 'not here, dinner's in the fridge'. They don't talk much about their day anymore, and when they're on the couch watching TV, there's a good foot of space between them. In bed, Michael's all the way on the other side, curled away from Luke as far as possible. Their bed has never felt so big before.

Luke doesn't know what's wrong. Maybe Michael is just having a bad time. Maybe he just needs some space. After all, him and Luke have been together for very, _very_ long. But whatever it is, Luke wishes Michael would just talk to him about it. He just wishes he could _help_.

–

“Do you,” Luke starts, but then stops. His head is pillowed on Michael's shoulder as they're watching TV in their living room. It's Thursday night, and they don't have anywhere to be. It's just them, and the TV, and their very comfortable couch. Luke loves night's like these, where they can just relax and don't have to worry about anything.

“Do I what?” Michael eventually asks, when Luke stays quiet for too long, stuck in his own head.

Luke clears his throat and tries again, willing the nervous butterflies in his stomach to go down. “Do you ever think about the future?”

Michael furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean, the future? Like if they'll have hover cars and robots as maids in 2050? Because I definitely think that that's a possibility, yes.”

Luke sighs, frustrated, and lifts his head from Michael's shoulder so he can look at him properly. “No, I mean, like, our future. What's going to happen to us, in particular.”

“Well, I can predict you that.” Michael says, eyes twinkling, and Luke can tell he's still not taking this seriously. “We're going to live our lives, reach a certain age, and then die. Like most humans. Unless they invent some sort of weird immortality drug that make it so we can live forever. Then we probably won't die.”

Luke huffs, punching Michael in the shoulder. “I'm serious, okay! I mean, like, do you want to get married one day? Have kids? A house with a white picket fence and annoying nosy neighbors?”

Michael sighs and pulls Luke closer, onto his lap, so Luke's now straddling Michael. “Luke, lets just take life day by day, yeah? Just one day at a time. We'll see where it leads us.”

Luke wants to open his mouth and protest, wants to talk about this, wants to know where he stands. Wants to know if he means as much to Michael as Michael means to him. If maybe he's something Michael's just spending time with until something better comes along. If maybe Michael doesn't see in a future in them at all. But before he can do so, Michael's pressing open mouthed kisses to Luke's throat, his hands sneaking under Luke's shirt to grab his hips, and Luke forgets all about it. Or well, he doesn't forget, he just realizes he doesn't care. He doesn't care as long as Michael will touch him like that, as long as Michael loves him. He trusts Michael, he'd follow him anywhere he'd go.

“I love you,” Michael says, lips pressed to Luke's collarbone.

“I love you, too,” Luke says, resting his forehead against Michael's.

Luke's okay with it, as long as its them. Just them, against the rest of the world.

Always.

–

It all goes to shit on a Sunday.

Luke's been awake for hours, just puttering around the house, waiting for Michael to wake up. He knows they need to talk, about what's going on between them, what's wrong with Michael lately. Why Michael seems to almost ignore him. Why Michael won't talk to him. Why Michael's being so distant. But Michael is still asleep, or at least pretending to be, and Luke is getting restless.

So when Michael finally walks into the room, sleepy look on his face, Luke's emotions are all over the place. He's mad, because Michael won't tell him what's wrong. Worried, because something is clearly wrong. Tired, because he just wants them to figure this out and go back to the way they were.

“We need to talk,” He says, and it sounds serious and cliche like the way it does in the movies and Luke hates it.

Michael doesn't flinch, just sighs and runs his hand through his hair, like he saw this coming. He probably did. Was probably waiting for Luke to break and finally ask him what's wrong. It makes Luke kind of annoyed, that Michael was basically just smoking him out, waiting for him to crack. He hates that he did too, that he let Michael manipulate him into being the first to ask, being the first to address the elephant in the room. So in the end, when everything does possibly go to shit, people can tell him that it's his fault, that he should've just kept his mouth shut, that everything would still be fine.

But everything is not fine, not now. Not when Michael barely talks to him anymore, barely even looks at him anymore. He hasn't told Luke he loved him for more than a month. Luke can't even remember the last time, which should say enough. And he wants to fix this, whatever it is. He wants them to be okay again, he _needs_ them to be okay again. He loves Michael, with all his heart and every bone in his body, and he can't lose him. He can't let them drift apart.

He's scared it's already too late.

“You've been acting...” Luke starts, running his hand through his hair, looking for the right word. “Kind of, uh, distant, lately. I was just, I was wondering if maybe something was going on, that maybe something was wrong. Maybe I can, uh, help you?”

Michael is still standing there, emotionless and still, almost like a statue. It's nothing like the excited boy he used to know, like the lanky teenager he fell in love with, like the man he knew before things got weird between them. He shrugs, like he doesn't care, and Luke's afraid he actually doesn't. “It's, whatever,” Michael eventually says, and Luke lets out a frustrated noise.

“It's not just ' _whatever_ ', Michael! It's affecting us, our relationship and you don't even, you don't even seem to care! You're just, you're just standing there like a fucking statue, staring at me with absolutely no emotion in your eyes, like you don't even care!” He looks at Michael, but there's no change at all in his facial expression. “Please tell me you still care,” He whispers, and it sounds a bit broken, needy. He wishes so badly it didn't, because it's such a clear sign that whether or not Michael cares, Luke does. Maybe a little too much.

“Luke, listen,” Michael says, and Luke feels his heart sink to his feet. His tone say everything. It's flat, official, maybe a tiny little bit apologetic (but maybe that's just because Luke really wants it to be). “I, okay, so, we had fun, you know? We had a great time together, god knows we did. But I just, I'm not really feeling it anymore? It's. Loving you is getting boring, Luke. It's not what we used to have, when we were still young. It was exiting then, it was a thrill. But now it's just.” He sighs, frustrated. “It's dull! It's boring! You're great Luke, really, don't take it personal. But I'm not a domestic kind of person, all right? You want a house and a family and fuck, a dog probably. You want to be the American dream with two and a half kids and weekly neighborhood barbeques. I don't. I don't want any of that. I need adventure, and lets be real, you're not it.”

Luke always thought Michael could never hurt him, in any way. Michael was _Michael_ and he yelled at Luke a lot and he punched a bit too hard sometimes maybe, but he would never, ever truly hurt Luke. Or so he thought. But these words, said in that monotone, almost bored voice, hit Luke straight in his heart. He suddenly struggles to breath, like every breath is poison, poison Michael's words left in the air. The words aren't even really sinking in, their true meaning is getting slightly lost on Luke, but then suddenly Michael's walking away, back to their bedroom and he comes back with a duffel bag, completely packed.

And that's when it really hits Luke. Why Michael had taken so long this morning. Why he wasn't surprised when Luke said they needed to talk. Even before Luke brought it up, he had already been planning on leaving. He had packed his bags, made up his mind. He _planned this_. Michael was deliberately leaving him. This wasn't a spur of the moment decision, made in the heat of the moment during an argument. This is was all well thought out. Michael was leaving him. Michael was leaving him and their live together and he didn't even seem remotely sad about it. If anything, he might even seem a bit happy, like a burden was lifted of his shoulders. A burden named Luke Hemmings. Luke felt kind of sick to his stomach.

There's also a tiny voice in the back of his mind nagging him that maybe, if he hadn't brought it up, Michael would've walked out without a word. That he would just left, leaving Luke behind like it's nothing. Like he doesn't care. Which he clearly doesn't. Michael's probably even annoyed he actually has to talk about this with Luke. Would probably prefer to disappear, to leave without a word. It hurts, that Michael would just slip out of their life together like that, like all those years meant nothing to him. Like everything they promised each other was just a joke.

“But, but,” He's stuttering, like a little kid, and he suddenly feels so inferior standing next to Michael, who has made up his mind, ready to leave, while Luke is still standing there, scrambling to get grip on the current events. Lost for words. “What about you and me against the world? What about always?” Luke eventually chokes out, feeling the tears well up in his eyes. He refuses to cry. He refuses to give Michael that satisfaction.

Michael smiles sadly, and it's the first emotion Luke actually sees on him. It doesn't make it better. It just reminds him of the Michael he loved, _loves_. The boy he fell in love with, the boy he will probably always will be in love with. It reminds him that this is Michael, the Michael he loves so much, standing right in front of him telling him he's leaving. Telling him Luke's not the one.

_You're not it_.

“I'm sorry, Luke. I really am. You deserve better.”

Luke almost wants to laugh. He doesn't know if he deserves better. Maybe he does. But he doesn't want better. He wants Michael. He wants Michael to tell him this whole thing was a joke, that he's not leaving, that he's just fucking with Luke. Although it would be the cruelest joke ever, everything is better than the harsh reality. Everything is better than Michael walking out on him.

“Please,” He says, pleading, broken, desperate. He's searching Michael's face for any sign of him maybe changing his mind, of him staying after all. He finds nothing. “Please don't leave me.”

“I'm sorry,” Michael says again, like that's the only thing he can think of. Luke thinks it's kind of weak. All those years of them being together, and then in the end he has nothing to say. Nothing but a hollow apology, which is maybe even worse than nothing. Because it doesn't mean anything, Michael doesn't mean it. If he was really sorry, that meant he still felt something for Luke, which means he could stay. But he can't and his words are cold and Luke suddenly feels tired, so, so tired.

“Don't,” He grits out, with the last tiny bit of strength he finds inside him. “Just leave.”

And Michael does. He takes the duffel bag, and Luke's heart, and walks out the door.

He doesn't look back. The door clicks shut behind him. Luke collapses on the floor.

Tired, exhausted, wrung out, broken. Alone.

Just him. Always.

–

Luke meets Michael on the first day of school. He doesn't know he's called Michael back then, doesn't know what this boy is going to do to him. How badly he's going to fuck with Luke's head. Doesn't know about all the great moment they're going to have together. Doesn't know about the stolen kisses and the whispered I love you's and the late night slow dancing in the kitchen and the promises they'll make each other. He also doesn't know about the heartbreak this boy will bring him, how he will leave him behind, empty and alone. Doesn't know about the hole in his chest this boy will cause. Doesn't know that this boy will take his heart and never give it back, even when he leaves.

He just sees a boy with blond hair and bright green eyes and a loud laugh and somehow his legs carry him over to the where he is sitting. “Hi,” he says, shyly. Luke never really quite mastered the whole making friends thing.

Luckily, the boy seems a lot better at that. He smiles brightly when he sees Luke, and Luke thinks it's the pretties smile he has ever seen. “Hello!” The boy says enthusiastically, “My name's Michael, who're you?” He looks at Luke curiously, like he actually wants to know, like he's actually interested in Luke, and Luke's heart swells.

“I'm Luke,” He says, awkwardly holding out his hand for Michael to shake. Michael takes it, without hesitation, and shakes it, still with the bright smile on his face. Then he notices Luke's Green Day t-shirt, and he asks him if he likes the band, and before they know it they're talking about music and giggling and it's great.

It's just them, huddled together in a corner of the cafeteria, talking about bands none of their other peers have ever heard of and music they don't like and it's like they have their own secret little club, the two of them. Luke's just met Michael, but Michael is vibrant and bright and he actually listens to Luke when he talks and it's wonderful. As they talk, it almost seems like the world around them fades away, like it's just them, against the rest of the world. No one else, just them.

It's nice.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr [here](http://witchlukey.tumblr.com) :)))))


End file.
